The work trip

My job is sending me out to California to attend the Adobe MAX conference in Los Angeles. This is pretty cool because I can’t ever say that I’ve been on a work trip such as this before in my life; the last time I skipped town for a work function, it was to like Macon, Georgia where maybe like 12 people from various other satellite offices could meet my entire office when I worked for the state.

But yeah, work trip to California where they’re paying for the flights and the hotel.  You’d think I’d be more excited for this as it’s at the same time a little bit of a forced break from parenting, but I’m not treating this like it’s going to be the greatest experience of my life or anything.  It’s still a conference full of other graphic designers and creative types, and most of my zero readers probably know I have a bit of an eyeroll-ey contentious feeling towards that demographic.

Maybe it’s just that I’ve been doing it for so long that I think most of the bullshit high-up creatives say is full of shit and made up word fluff, or maybe I’m envious of the next generation of creatives and the talent that they bring to the table or maybe a little of both.  But the idea of being a conference full of these types isn’t necessarily my first preference of people to surround myself with, but that’s also probably me just being a curmudgeon about everything that’s usually the norm.

Honestly, the thing I’m looking forward to the most probably shouldn’t be any surprise, but it’s some of the potential food options I’ve scouted out.  Years of seeing drive-by reels of restaurants that usually anywhere but in Atlanta are now within reach, at least for ones found in downtown Los Angeles, or as the kids say, DTLA.  Yeah, I’ve found a few that are within reasonable distance to where I’m staying at, and as god as my witness, it’s my time to get my hands on shit like hot Cheetos loaded quesaritos, twice-wrapped burritos and trash can nachos.

However this isn’t to say that I’m completely no-selling MAX.  Instead of coasting through the event and scheduling nothing but layup workshops of shit in my wheelhouse, I’ve deliberately gone out of my way to schedule as many workshops and seminars of the things I’m not as versed in, so that I can actually maybe learn some shit and get on the path to some career advancement.

All the same, as a whole I really am looking forward to this trip as I’m nearing embarkation.  It’ll be nice to have a little bit of purely alone time, eat some trash I’ve always wanted to try and maybe I’ll learn something useful.

Dad Brog (#120): the 2023 Famiry Disney Trip

Typically, I imagine a lot of people look forward to taking a week off and going down to Disney World with their families.  But a lot of people also aren’t stodgy curmudgeons who is always financially paranoid and also knows just how much work two toddlers are regardless of how many adults are going to be involved in the trip, so personally it’s not so much that I was gleefully looking forward to taking a week off at the Happiest Place on Earth™ as much as I was just mentally trying to psych myself up for the sheer amount of, lift, that would entail on a trip as such.

I mean, two of the things that are basically atop of my general pet peeve list these days are crowds and being up against a clock, and Disney trips are typically nothing but dealing with gargantuan crowds and always being up against a clock since there are fast passes, lightning lanes, genie passes or whatever else that puts clocks on top of everyone’s heads.  Not to mention despite the fact that the weather is just now finally starting to cool off in Georgia, we head down to Florida, where it’s still going to be 90F+ every day, along with the daily Florida rains to contend with, and it’s like asking myself, why do we keep coming back to Florida over and over again?

Regardless, I don’t want to be a total curmudgeon that brings down those all around me, so I did my best to be optimistic that things were going to be okay, and I deliberately planned absolutely nothing at all for myself, since trips like these really are for my kids above all else.  Because if I had any real allusions that I would have any actual time for anything that I wanted to do, I would be cranky in the very likely chance that they did not occur.

Overall, it was probably for the best that I went into the trip with such gameplan, because by simply rolling with the general agenda that mythical wife had set up and just reacting to what was in front of me, I can say that I think the trip went well, I didn’t burn out too much, and most importantly, I think my kids had a really great time, and I can take some really positive and core memories out of the trip as a whole.

Sure there were a few moments where I get fried where I feel like I’m the only one watching the kids while everyone around me is constantly shopping or indulging themselves while the girls grow restless and cranky and I’m the only one seemingly caring, but frankly this is often the case regardless of if we’re in Disney or Florida or anywhere really.

It’s the moments where I’m with my kids and I see them getting enjoyment or having fun in ways that aren’t available to them back at home, that make trips like these worth it, no matter how much angst or frustration I deal with at any other point during them.  Seeing my kids’ faces light up when they meet their favorite (current) Disney princess, or they get to eat something that we normally don’t let them eat at home, these are the true core memories that emerge from a trip while any of the fleeting frustration or grumpiness about daily changing sleeping arrangements get dumped into forgotten memories by the end of the trip.

But my god, I think the pinnacle of this trip for me, was seeing just how mind-blown and enthralled both of my girls were, when they experienced the big slide at our resort.  I had no real intention of letting either of them go down it, thinking they were too young or too small to handle it.  I figured the baby slide that was like 6 feet and a gentle, straight slope would be the highlight of their trip, and they seemed to like it fine, going down it like 30 times each, with me catching them at the bottom of it every time.

Then I noticed that some kids not much bigger or older than #1 coming down the big slide, and I’m asking the lifeguard if there was any age or size restrictions on it, to which they responded that there weren’t, other than kids like mine needing life jackets for safety reasons.  I stood at the bottom of the slide watching kids come down, and sure enough it wasn’t long before not just #1, but #2 wanted to try the slide, so it was the moment of truth to see if they could handle it or not, since we had the au pair who could catch them at the bottom while I took them up top.

Surely, one or both of my kids would be traumatized, or be that kid at the water park who puts on the hand brakes and gets themselves stuck and makes a scene, right??  I let #1 down the slide first, and she did a little bit of braking for herself, but otherwise went down the slide without any other incident.  #2, I had more concern for, being smaller and fragile, but when I set her on her way, watching her go down the slide, the smile on her face, man, was totally one of those things where if I could bottle that kind of joy and enjoyment and sell it to others, I would be rich three times over.

After sliding down myself to get my kids’ opinions on the slide, they were absolutely beside themselves and practically begging to get back up the stairs and go down the slide again, and again, and again, to which the au pair and I obliged and took turns at taking them up while the other caught them at the bottom.

After the 6th or 7th trip down the slide, I’m asking myself, why bother with exorbitant admission into the parks, when they’ve clearly found the highlight of their trip from one of our resort’s amenities?

Either way, that was probably my favorite memory of this year’s Disney trip.  I know that in future years, things will continue to get easier as my kids grow, and their sleeping arrangements change and settle, and we’ll need less and less assistance, but I can still say that this year’s trip wasn’t nearly as exhaustingly clunky as the one prior.

But of course, nothing can go too smooth, and despite the fact that the travel was going fairly smooth, it naturally came crashing to a literal stop, as it wasn’t until we started getting closer to Atlanta did we start to hit catastrophic traffic not just once, but two times, once in fucking McDonough, which is basically like the Gwinnett County that’s south of the city instead of north of it, and then naturally there’s a great big old nothing-caused turd of standstill traffic traversing through the actual City of Atlanta.

And I still don’t know what it was, although I suspect it might’ve been an excess of sun exposure, but I got waylaid pretty hard at the very end of the trip, dealing with a fever and body aches on the drive back, as well as throughout the weekend concluding our trip.

Overall, I’d say the trip was still pretty good though.  Several good memories were made with my family, and fewer things snap me out of grumpy moods than seeing my girls being filled with joy.  One of these years I’ll actually get to enjoy Food & Wine again, but I wouldn’t trade fun time with my kids for anything, so no regrets with forfeiting something I’ve done countless times already for the comfort and safety of my kids.

How did the Ford Bronco become such the white peoples’ car?

Over the last few days, I had a pretty white span of existence.  Sure, this doesn’t help detract from the narrative that I’m a Americanized banana of a twinkie kind of Asian person, but as the circumstances have it, my family and I spent a few days on the road, stopping in Savannah and for the first time in my life, visiting Hilton Head Island, which is about one of the whitest places in the country.

Seriously, thinking back to the time spent in HHI, I genuinely can’t recall seeing more than one other person of color, and that person was also Asian which is to say that I don’t remember seeing a single black person while out there.

We stayed at a bougie resort for a few days, and lounged in the pool, went to the beach and even went to the Salty Dog Café, which I’m only aware of its existence because of an old neighbor of mine growing up always seemed to have a lot of Salty Dog Café apparel.  For the record, the dining experience was pleasant on the water of a relaxed beach community, but the food and the prices were not quite as satisfactory and I could be content with the rest of my life if I never experienced them again.

But overall, it was a pleasant trip spent with my family and I got to watch my children have a lot of fun in the pool, in our suite, on the beach and chowing down on all sorts of junk food we typically don’t always make available to them at home, and in spite of the shade I spout about HHI being a really white place, it’s also a really nice place, and I’d definitely be open to going there again in the future, and hopefully for longer.

However, to get to the point of this post, as the subject goes, I’m very curious to how the new Ford Bronco seems to have become the official car of white people across the country now.  When Ford announced that they were reviving the name and creating a new vehicle to resurrect the car, I couldn’t possibly have been more indifferent.  In fact, I was more perplexed and wincing over such news, because to me, the Ford Bronco has forever been tainted and etched with death and scandal since OJ Simpson led the LAPD on the most televised chase in history after he “didn’t” murder his wife.

Apparently such reaction and recollection didn’t resonate with the white people of America, because since they started rolling off the line, Ford Broncos have been snapped up and are being driven like crazy by white people all over the place.  Seriously, I haven’t seen a single Bronco driver on the road that isn’t white, and they’re often times being driven with the arrogant mentality of “I have one and you don’t,” because of the sheer demand for these murderer cars.

And I can’t help but be curious to why the Ford Bronco has caught on with white people with such enthusiasm, when I can’t shake the association of the car’s reputation of being what a tried-but-not-found-guilty murderer drove notoriously.  And then be further curious to what kind of message it sends that not only is the Ford Bronco more popular than it’s ever been in history, it’s apparently solely within the white community itself.

All shade aside, it really is fascinating that it’s so rabidly popular.  Aside from the whole, being OJ Simpson’s car, the Bronco is still a Ford product, and I will probably never not think of all Ford products being cheap, plastic turds with questionable build quality and reliability.  Even when I was on the market for a new car a while back, and told myself to wipe the slate clean with all makes and models, Ford was the first maker to get slapped back onto the blacklist after test-driving the option I had earmarked as a potential car, because it felt cheap, performed like shit, and was blown out of the water by every other option.

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I think I’m done gambling for a while

I took a whirlwind, 24-hour trip to Las Vegas this past weekend, primarily to bear witness to one of my closest friends getting married.  I deliberately made the trip short, because I’m stingy with my PTO at work, mythical wife couldn’t come with me, and frankly there’s nothing good to come out of me having too much time in Las Vegas.  I’m already uncomfortable in my financial life these days, and trips like Vegas can be colossal hazards to anyone’s personal finances.

Still, short as the trip was, I made sure to tackle some of the things that I missed out on during my last trip during Labor Day, like hitting up Ellis Island, and visiting Sayulita’s, where I needed to try for myself one of the monster big ass burritos that I’d seen from their social media presence. 

And let me tell you something about this burrito pictured here, it was without question the largest burrito I’ve ever encountered in my life, and this wasn’t the biggest one on their menu too.  I waffled on the idea of going there, since I was still full from the post-wedding dinner that I got to indulge in, but I knew that if I didn’t go there, I’d be left with no real other food options except the one Shake Shack in McCarron Harry Reid which would be slammed packed from other travelers left with no other option, plus I would just simply regret not going when I was already in the city.  So I went, and even thought it was $20 after tax and tip, it definitely is more than $20 worth of food.

I wasn’t hungry at the time, but I ate a quarter of it before my flight, because I didn’t want to get hungry mid-redeye flight, and be that asshole unwrapping a monster burrito on an airplane and letting its aroma get all over the place.  After I got home and took a little bit of a recovery nap, I ate 3/4 of what was left before I felt like I was going to burst, and later in the day, I finished it off, and then I literally didn’t have to eat again for the rest of the day.

And it was fantastic, and every bit worth the trip off the beaten tourist path to go try them out.  Would definitely drop them a five-star rating on Yelp if I weren’t low-key salty about them not making me Elite status again for 2023.

But anyway, to get to the point of the title of this post, I think I’m done gambling for a while.  Not solely because I didn’t have a particularly good gambling trip in the small opportunities I had to gamble (I got pretty decimated, so much for wedding luck), it’s just that I frankly don’t have the bankrolls or the means to build the bankrolls I’d need in order to gamble as I’d like to in Las Vegas anymore.

I used to be able to stretch $500 to last a whole weekend in the past, but that amount barely kept me in the game for a single day this past trip.  Table minimums have risen across the entire Strip, and pretty much at no point does a table drop beneath a $15 minimum at any casino I’ve been to, from Harrah’s to Bally’s Horseshoe to Cosmopolitan to the Venetian.  And after like, noon, those “low” limits vanish and it’s basically $25 minimums anywhere and everywhere from there on.

Nice, manageable $10 minimums are an extinct relic on the Strip now, and that means a $100 buy in here or there just doesn’t last as long as they used to, not to mention that even at a $15 minimum, they’re harder to manage and round off to nice increments of hundos, and obviously such is done deliberately to more expediently part money away from us gambling schmucks in the first place.

Lower, more appealing to my broke ass limits are still available, off-Strip and places like Ellis Island, but other than my brother, it’s hard to convince anyone at all to go to Ellis Island with me.  I think I’ve talked about the place so much it’s to the point where people want to deliberately shun it just to troll me, that and the fact that for whatever reason, people just can’t seem to want to ever wander off the Strip in the first place.

The bottom line is that it’s gotten to the point where I can’t really afford to gamble in Las Vegas anymore.  At least at this juncture of my life, where nearly all of my earnings goes towards my kids and bills and there’s practically nothing left for me to do anything.  But it’s still a little demoralizing, because I really do enjoy gambling and being in Las Vegas, but aside from rising minimums and my cash flow not rising commensurate to keep up, the place has changed a lot since the days in which I’d make 3-4 trips a year, and after this past trip, I think I can safely say that my itch to Vegas it up in all applicable ways, is kind of gone.

But never say never, who knows how things will change in the passage of time.  Maybe I’ll make more money one day, and not all of it is hoovered up by responsibilities, or maybe but not likely Vegas will drop their minimums and bank on getting more action.  Or maybe I’ll come across some more gambling videos with supposed unbeatable, low-risk grind methods in roulette or craps that will reignite the itch.  Until then, we’ll see how long it takes for me to get back out there next.

I love when a bad plan backfires

Impetus: Blue Jays pitcher goes on Twitter to bitch about United Airlines asking his wife to clean up after their kids on a flight, gets bodied by The Internet

See, now this is an instance where The Internet made the right call on someone to unleash the fury onto.

Anthony Bass, a journeyman pitcher of marginal talent, who has played for seven different MLB franchises, and has made over $10 million dollars in career earnings, tries to go on the internet to shame United Airlines over the crew of a flight he and his family were on, asking the pregnant mother of their children to clean up a popcorn spill.  But his evident quest to gain sympathy and shame United Airlines backfires stupendously, and he receives a healthy dose of reality from the cauldron of the internet, leading to lots of disagreement, ridicule, and of course, snarky analysis of his baseball talent.

I think it goes without saying that I’m on the side of The Internet on this one, because I’ve done my share of traveling on airplanes with kids and it is every bit as difficult, aggravating and patience testing as one without kids might think it is.  But I also do it intelligently, and even if the airline were to present fucking popcorn to my kids, I simply wouldn’t let them have it.  The probability of a mess is higher than Bass’s opponents’ batting average has been this season, and I wouldn’t want to put myself in a position to where I would have to be the parent asked to clean up after my kids.

But if I were?  I’d do it, no questions asked.  I’ve flown enough in my life and know enough about the airline industry to know that flight attendants aren’t maids, butlers, servants or custodians.  I respect what they do, and I know that cleaning up after mine or my kids’ messes aren’t their primary jobs, and any assistance that they do give is a genuine act of generosity to be grateful for, and not expected.

Bass, his wife, and his wife’s sister, who is also married to a (former) professional athlete, are all a bunch of spoiled, infantilized idiots who have lost touch with normal people in normal occupations, because they’ve been coddled in the lifestyles of professional athletes for the better part of a decade.  I absolutely am tickled by the notion that Bass and his clan all got on social media with the intent to shame United Airlines, but it mostly backfired on them all, and of all the resistance they received, I absolutely love it when a baseball player’s poor performance inevitably is brought up, because in most cases it adds nothing to the argument, but in the context of comparing it to the situation, it kind of works.

I love the fact that someone screen grabbed his Baseball-Reference page, primarily showing off his 2023 stats where he has an abysmal 7.11 ERA and a negative -0.2 WAR, and made the comparison that he had no room to complain about United not doing their jobs when it was very evident that he was not doing his.

But I kind of get Anthony Bass’s frustration a little bit too though.  I’ve been twice a husband to a pregnant wife, and I understand that if I’m not here, I could only wish people were willing to help her out when needed.  Frankly, he had some reason to be frustrated with a flight attendant, if they didn’t help at all, and stood there and watched his wife get down and pick up popcorn, but frankly I’d also be miffed with surrounding passengers who sat on their asses with seatbelts on, and didn’t help a very likely obviously pregnant woman on the ground picking up popcorn.  Sure, it’s not their job to do such, as it isn’t the jobs of the flight attendants, but a little bit of empathy and compassion can go a long way in life.

Either way, I still got a lot of amusement of reading the fallout of Anthony Bass and his beef with United.  He clearly thought he was going to have The Internet to back him up against United, but much like the confidence in his abilities he must have had after his fairly decent 2022 season, he was wrong.  And I love seeing spoiled professional athletes get owned on the internet.

That’s a whole lot of words to say “because we suck”

lol’d heartily: San Francisco Giants GM Farhan Zaidi tries to explain the difficulty of signing free agents because nobody likes the city

I remember when my baseball travels took me to San Francisco, I looked forward to the trip.  Years of watching stuff like Full House and Mrs. Doubtfire made the city seem like a pretty cool place, but at the same time, as a sports fan, I was a little skeptical, because as far as baseball was concerned, it became pretty common knowledge that San Francisco was the city that was 69F all year long, and their sports fans were among the most insufferably obnoxious ones in existence.

All the same, I looked forward to the trip as I did most all of my baseball trips, because regardless of the preconceived notions, it was still a place I’d never been to before, and I always relished the opportunity to see new places.

After my trip was over, I had decided that it was a good enough trip, but as a whole, I really wasn’t that impressed with San Francisco.  Everything everywhere was ridiculously expensive, the weather really was static, and it was just a difficult city to traverse in general.  As far as ballparks were concerned, I thought Oakland’s decrepit mausoleum of a ballpark was the better place to watch a game, and the sports culture was everything I had expected before going there.  Giants clearly cared more about the scene than they did the team, and even when they were getting stomped by the rival A’s, the fans still went ballistic for the Fist Pump Cam, and I’d never felt more embarrassed for other human beings in my entire life.

Despite the hype and perception and the self-importance from those in the Bay area, San Francisco was not a city I am that fond of, and I have little motive to want to visit again without good reason.

So I was quite tickled pink to read this article where the Giants’ GM Farhan Zaidi maybe said a little too much in an interview, because he basically said that free agents don’t want to sign with his team because the city kind of sucks.  He cited a couple of things that were not at all sports-related, and the author of the aforementioned story injected a little bit more of their own opinion into the article trying to smokescreen it as Zaidi’s.

But they mention stuff like homelessness and drug problems in the city, and although they don’t expressly say it, their use of sociological factors is basically trying to skirt around the fact that San Francisco is pretty well known to be one of the gayest cities in America, and I don’t say that with any hint of criticism or animosity, after all I’m in Atlanta, which is probably right behind them in population of the LGBTQ+.

Ballplayers probably don’t care about homelessness or drug use in the city, what they’re more likely to care about it the fact that it’s an expensive as fuck city to live in, and even the biggest of superstars are going to have a hard time trying to find a place to live, having to compete with all tech millionaires and billionaires that live in Silicon Valley.  Over the last few years, there have been numerous professional athletes who have turned away opportunities to play in New York and Canada over anticipated tax costs, and gone to places like Texas and Florida where tax laws aren’t as costly, they get that granular with their money.  San Francisco and the highest real estate costs in the country aren’t very likely to be that attractive to anyone, much less professional athletes.

Maybe the more country bumpkin athletes might have an objection with living in a blue state full of the gays, but it’s more likely that what will drive them away is a city with horrendous traffic and mountainous hills where they can’t drive their sports cars around in and have any fun, but it really was hilarious that the author of the post cited being the home to Nancy Pelosi as a potential reason why Aaron Judge wouldn’t sign there.

The thing is, no life-long Bay area resident would ever publicly decry their hometown to anyone other than other Bay area lifers.  Hometown criticism is like mom jokes, as in only we are allowed to make them, but coming from outside us, fuck you.  So it makes it that much more entertaining to me, that a notable representative of the city in the form of the hometown baseball club’s general manager goes on the record to point out all the faults why free agents wouldn’t want to sign there.  I’m sure he’s going to be a popular fellow until the next shiny distraction emerges.

Naturally, at the time I’m writing this, word drops that the Giants succeeded in signing shortstop Carlos Correa to a 13-year megadeal worth $350 million.  Most interestingly about the initial details is that I’ve noticed that there are no opt-out clauses, which means I really hope Correa likes the city, because he’s going to be there for quite some time.  Hopefully he knew what he was getting himself into, otherwise it’s going to suuuuuck.

Either way speaking of suuuuuuuck, suck it, San Francisco.  Y’all are an overrated city that nobody outside of it likes.  I relish in the fact that coronavirus exposed the town more than any other in America and their ridiculous real estate market took a notable hit, and it almost nearly gets some blood flow to hear that the Giants’ own GM think the city sucks too.